Five is a dreamer. Five sees fairies in flowers and mountain ranges in tree bark. Five walks right up to the imaginary and makes it real, draping it around her shoulders as a constant companion. Five is breath and song, tangled together.
Five smells like vitamin D and honeysuckle. Like clover and raindrops. Five knows the softness of the grass and the perfection of the breeze. Five fills her lungs and closes her eyes and shouts do you smell that air, mama? It's delicious! Five is right.
Five is a picnic party; five is a doll. Five is gingham and lace and buttons and grace. And her grace is mine. Five is bashful and boisterous; five is a paradox. Five burrows and hides, then smiles and laughs. Five is joy.
Five finds the clouds and the sky with her toes. Five knows the way. Five matches the rainbow -- arcing all the colors into the world. Five spins in circles until she falls in a heap at my feet. Five pulls my hands until I'm spinning, too.
Five convinces me that life is to be dizzying and giggly and sweet.
Five is Lauren. Lauren is five.